


Their bond

by dunklenacht310



Series: Scents [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Zayn, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Harry, Rutting, Top Zayn, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/pseuds/dunklenacht310
Summary: Zayn and Harry decide to make a pup.They want it. They want it so much.





	1. Deciding

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot. 
> 
> Another disclaimer: In my Omegaverse, male Alphas and Omegas need to be in rut and heat in the same moment to be able to conceive.

Zayn would be lying if he said that he hasn’t had the idea in the back of his mind for quite some time already. He and Harry have been married for a year, after all.

But it hits him, hard and fast, that night after dinner with Liam and Louis.

Liam is doing the dishes, has taken the job upon himself and won’t let any of his ‘guests’ help, as if Zayn and Harry could ever be just ‘guests’ to him and Louis.

Louis, on his part, looks beyond tired. Zayn can imagine that he isn’t getting much sleep, with little Alex being eight months and being—Louis’s words—in the phase where he’s always trying out how loud he can scream at three in the morning.

They’re sitting on the couch, talking, and when Alex starts crying from his crib next to them, and Louis sighs a tired little smile, Harry just pats him on the shoulder and stands up, no questions asked, and picks Alex from the crib to calm him down himself and cut Louis some slack.

Louis says something to Zayn, but Zayn can’t even feel guilty about not listening, because in that moment, the only thing he can see and hear is Harry. And not in the normal, _Zayn_-way where he can’t stop looking at Harry and listening to Harry because he’s his mate, his love, his Omega.

It’s something else.

Harry isn’t paying them much mind, he’s just standing by the crib with Alex in his arms, shushing him and slightly rocking him, his small back rested in the crook of his elbow.

Alex stops crying instantly and just blinks, coos, stares up at Harry.

So does Zayn.

He doesn’t know how _long _he stares at his husband holding the baby. He just knows that he can’t take his eyes off of Harry, the way Harry looks like he’s doing the best thing in the world right now, a fond smile on his lips as he whispers sweet nothings to Louis and Liam’s son, clicking his tongue and cooing and chuckling when Alex coos back, his tiny fists raised to try and catch Harry’s bouncing curls through his minuscule fingers.

Something shifts in Zayn, that night. Because he looks at Harry, and he’s imagined it more times than he’s ever said out loud, but now he’s _seeing _it. That Harry, _his _Harry, looks like he was _born _to hold that baby to his chest, to take care of him and pepper his forehead with butterfly kisses like it’s _his own_.

Alex is not theirs.

But Zayn, if he’s honest, is not seeing _Alex _in Harry’s arms right now. He’s picturing another baby, a baby that can be _theirs_.

Zayn struggles to take his eyes off of Harry, because he doesn’t really want to. Before he can, Harry must sense that he’s being watched, and he raises a set of sparkly green eyes to Zayn’s, his smile big and warm, his cheeks pink. “What?” he mouths, a bit embarrassedly. “I do this all the time. It calms him down quicker if you pick him up rather than just rock the crib with him in it.”

Zayn only nods, because he’s sure his words will fail him if he tries to speak. The heat in his stomach is not quite boiling, but it’s there, like a seed has been planted a long time ago and is now starting to take root.

Louis chuckles next to Zayn. “It’s something, for an Alpha to see their Omega with a baby, isn’t it?” he asks gently, in a whisper Zayn is sure can’t reach Harry. “Liam said that he understood he wanted to make a pup with me when he saw me fuss around a friend’s baby.”

Zayn nods, gulps down some air, and tries to force himself to stop looking at Harry and Alex.

Louis sighs a smile, and places a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “You talk about this with Harry?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No. We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“But you want to, don’t you? I can see it, Zed. I’ve been seeing it on your face for quite some time now.”

Zayn, because he’s Zayn Malik and he always overthinks everything to the point of exhaustion, heaves a shaky sigh. “I haven’t had the guts to ask him yet. I’m scared that he’ll say he’s not ready yet, and I’ll be too bummed to hide it from him, and I’ll make him feel like I’m pressuring him.”

Louis rolls his eyes, and discreetly points at Harry, who is now quietly humming a song to Alex, whose eyelids are drooping. “Does that look like someone who isn’t ready?”

Zayn doesn’t have time to answer, because then Alex falls asleep, and Harry gently places him back in his crib just as Liam comes out of the kitchen, and they both join Louis and Zayn on the couch.

Harry smiles at Zayn, eyes sparkling and dimples digging deep in his pink cheeks, and the heat in Zayn’s stomach flares.

+

“Alex is getting so big so _fast_,” Harry sighs with a happy giggle as they get back to their place, “Next thing they know they’ll wake up and he’s gonna be off to college!”

Zayn chuckles as they remove their shoes and coats in the entrance, trying to avoid looking at Harry in the face while he makes up his mind as to _how _to ask Harry what he wants to ask.

Harry seems oblivious to Zayn’s internal struggle, because he just keeps giggling as he comments on Louis and Liam’s baby, and they both get past their living room and up the stairs, to their bedroom, where Harry kisses Zayn lightly on the lips with another giggle before calling dibs on the bathroom and vanishing through the corridor.

When he leaves Zayn alone by the bed, Zayn changes to his sweatpants, looks at himself in the mirror on the closet and scrubs his face with his palms, energetically, trying to get rid of the scared expression he can see in his own eyes. _Get a fucking grip. You’re the Alpha. You’re _his _Alpha._

He knows it’s stupid, it’s stereotypical and wrong, because in so many ways, Harry’s the strongest of the two, and yet Zayn feels like _he _has to do that first step, he has to open the subject, and make sure to take Harry’s eventual rejection of his idea well enough that Harry won’t feel pressured.

He hears Harry come back to the bedroom humming a song under his breath, and then Harry’s there, in just a pair of sweatpants himself, lame tattoos on display, and Zayn feels less nervous as a wave of fondness courses through him. _It’s Harry. It’s my Harry. I can’t be _scared _of my Harry._

Harry goes to the nightstand on his side of the bed, and Zayn’s stomach flips when he sees him take his blister pack of suppressants, popping one out and holding it in the palm of his hand, ready to be swallowed with the water in the glass Harry brought from the bathroom.

Zayn moves. He doesn’t fully realize that he’s doing it until his hand closes around Harry’s wrist, gently but firmly, before he can bring the pill to his lips.

Harry looks at him, blinks, and frowns.

Zayn takes a breath. “Wait, babe, wait.”

Harry waits, not uttering a sound.

“I wanna make a pup,” Zayn blurts out, and then lets go of Harry’s hand like it’s burning him, cursing himself for how _not smoothly _he said that, like it’s an order and not an idea he wanted to consult with Harry about, because now Harry’s gonna be mad for sure, and Zayn fucked it up big time.

Harry stares at Zayn for another long, unbearably long, moment, and then he seems to deflate, heaving a big sigh and closing his eyes as he lowers the hand holding the pill. “Really?” Harry asks, smiling brightly. “Fuck. I’ve been wanting the same thing for _months_, Zayn, I didn’t fucking know how to ask you, I thought you weren’t there yet, I…”

“What?” Zayn asks, or better, kinda squeals.

Harry chuckles, setting the pill and the glass on the bedside and then nodding, looking at Zayn in the eyes with his smile still in place. “Yeah. Yeah. I wanna make a pup too,” Harry nods frantically. “And I’ve been thinking about _how _to ask you without looking like I was pressuring you for _months_, it was a total nightmare, I even asked Liam for advice but he’s been useless because he just said ‘Go for it, Haz’ like I could just _do _that, and I…”

Harry _oof_s and doesn’t get to finish his ramble, because Zayn throws himself at him and kisses the living daylights out of him, laughing on his beautiful mouth and feeling all his limbs relax like they’re suddenly made of water. Harry laughs too, and they snog for a while, standing by Harry’s side of the bed.

When they have to come up for air, Zayn smiles. “Are you sure, babe? We can wait some more if you want. We can talk more about it. Whatever you need.”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m sure. Fuck, I’m sure, I want to have a child with you, Zayn Malik, I do.”

Zayn smiles, and kisses Harry again before taking the suppressants on the nightstand and then putting the blister pack in Harry’s drawer, closing it. “Then we say bye to both our pills for a while,” he declares.

Harry nods, wrapping his arms around Zayn with a chuckle, and they kiss one more time, slower and with more purpose, until their mouths open and their tongues push against each other, breaths and pants coming from both of them until Zayn’s hands start running up and down Harry’s back. He’s honestly a bit amazed by the fact that this man, this lovely, perfect Omega just agreed to have a family with _Zayn _of all people, but he’s not gonna pretend he isn’t proud of it.

Harry smiles, and then attacks Zayn’s lips again, harder, his fingers going past the waistband of Zayn’s sweats and immediately wrapping around his already half-hard dick.

Zayn gasps in pleasure and sighs, but then he chuckles. “We gotta wait for my rut and your heat to be synced before there’s a possibility, babe,” he reminds Harry.

Harry nods and licks at Zayn’s cupid’s bow, pushing him on the bed and then straddling him. “We gotta practice,” he declares.

+

It takes a little bit of waiting, but then one morning, roughly a month later, Zayn wakes up on a Monday and he feels the edges of his rut coming.

It’s not that warm in the house, but the covers feel incredibly hot on his skin, so he kicks them away.

When he does, he notices two things. He’s hard, fully hard, and not like usual morning wood. He feels like he needs to fuck and knot or he’ll die with it, and he curses himself a little for his Alpha biology clouding his judgement so much already, but he can’t avoid it. The last rut he had was something like two years earlier, when he fucked up his suppressant schedule and exploded the night of the wedding where he and Harry pretended to be mated, in what feels now like a lifetime ago. Before that, Zayn had always been on suppressants anyway, so he only has memories of the rut he had when he presented, and that’s basically it. So now that he’s about to have a full rut again, it’s probably gonna be more powerful.

The second thing he notices is the scent, a scent he loves and cherishes, only… _stronger_.

He wants to turn to look at Harry, but before he can, he hears the tiny little whine. “Haz?” he whispers, although it’s a bit growly, and he means to ask Harry if he’s okay, but when he finally _sees _Harry, he’s not really prepared.

Harry’s skin is flushed and shiny with sweat, and he’s naked, completely naked, and completely hard as well. He’s panting a little, stroking a hand up and down his own chest, his mouth agape and his eyelids fluttering. “Zayn?” he says, whimpers. “I’m going into heat.”

Zayn sits up, his vision going a bit cross with the anticipation of it all, with how fucking _edible _Harry looks, with his body flushed and his scent so strong Zayn feels it crawl up his nostrils in waves which only make him harder and harder. “I’m going into rut,” Zayn replies, growls it.

Harry’s eyes shoot open, and he looks at Zayn, still breathing raggedly, and then he smiles. “Fuck. Yeah. You are. Your scent, Zayn. It’s the most beautiful fucking scent I’ve ever smelled in my life.”

Zayn nods, his mouth parched and watering at the same time, if it’s even possible. Harry has already seen Zayn in rut—and fucked him through it, which they both vividly remember—but Zayn has never seen Harry in heat, because he’s always been on suppressants.

It’s a sight, is what it is. Zayn would have half a mind to just stay there and look at him as he writhes and moans, but the thought of not being already fucking is unbearable. He can see his bond mark on Harry’s shoulder, flushed as well, a darker red than it normally is.

Zayn’s rut and Harry’s heat crash over them in their full bloom at the very same moment. Zayn feels his dick throb painfully, and his sight goes red for a moment, his brain and body providing a litany of _you have to fuck and knot right now, your Omega needs it and you need it, mine mine mine, he’s claimed he’s mine I need to be inside him_. He doesn’t miss the start of Harry’s heat, though. Harry gives out a surprised groan and arches his back, his dick red and angrily hard against his stomach, and when his back goes off the mattress, Zayn sees that Harry’s so slick that he’s _dripping _with it.

“Fuck,” Zayn growls, immediately going over Harry and nuzzling his neck, breathing in his scent. “You’re mine. I’m yours. I need you, Harry, fuck, you’re beautiful, you smell so good, you’ve never smelled this good, fuck, Harry, I need it I need it I need it…”

Harry’s hands grab him by the shoulders, and he whimpers underneath Zayn, nodding. “I want your knot. Give it to me. Put a baby in my belly, Zayn, I’m going mad with it, I need you to fill me up until it comes out of me, fuck, fuck, my Alpha, my love, I need it…”

Zayn growls. Harry can be so filthy with his words when they fuck, but Zayn can too, and he feels a bit like they’re both not quite in control of what they say and do, but it’s okay, because they both know the other wants this.

So Zayn doesn’t lose any more time, and grunts another curse when his fingers reach between Harry’s legs, getting instantly drenched in slick.

Harry whines. “No no no, your dick, I need your dick, not your fingers, please Zayn please…”

Zayn gulps down and compliments himself for the presence of mind he has when he replies “I gotta prep you a bit first, babe.”

Harry shakes his head. “No you don’t need to, we fucked last night, and I fingered myself ten minutes ago when you were still asleep, I was feeling so hot but I didn’t wake you up ‘cause we’re not gonna sleep for like a week now, and _fuck _Zayn it hurts please give it to me.”

Zayn doesn’t need more than that. He grips Harry’s thighs in his hands, parting them more to settle better in between them, and then slips inside Harry, harshly and in a single thrust, the glide smoother than it’s ever been, and it’s scorching and tight and wet, and they both shout when Zayn bottoms out instantly.

“Fuck fuck fuck yes yes yes,” Harry pleads. “Yes, fuck me, Zayn, I need it, fuck.”

Zayn feels his need and the need of his Omega like it’s branded inside his stomach, and he gives a first thrust, just rocking them both. “I’ve never been inside an Omega in heat. You feel fucking amazing, Harry, fuck, I never thought it could be like this, you’re so tight and so _wet_, God, Harry, I…”

“Never?” Harry asks, suddenly sounding more vigilant, and he stares at Zayn with red cheeks and parted lips.

Zayn shakes his head. “Never. Only you. It’s only you, Harry, it’s always been.”

Harry smiles. He grabs Zayn by the shoulders to haul him closer, and kisses him as dirtily as only Harry knows how, his hot tongue fucking in and out of Zayn’s mouth, a mewl coming out of Harry’s throat. “Good,” Harry says on Zayn’s lips. “Now fuck me.”

Zayn chuckles and nods, and he lets go of the tiny sliver of control he still has.

It feels like fireworks, when he starts really fucking Harry. Harry stays on his back, moaning loudly and wailing and asking for more, canting his hips to meet Zayn’s thrusts halfway, and Zayn goes as hard and fast as he can muster, his body telling him _more _and _harder_ and _mine mine mine I need to knot I need to claim_, and Zayn doesn’t fight it, because with Harry, he doesn’t have to.

He places his mouth on Harry’s shoulder, where the bond mark is, and bites on it, on the signs of his own teeth that he placed on Harry’s skin a year earlier.

Harry screams and scratches Zayn’s back with his nails, but that only makes Zayn go faster, and he wants to turn Harry on his hands and knees, to fuck him standing, to bend him over the couch, but he’ll do that later, because now they’re close, and he wants to see Harry’s face when he takes Zayn’s knot while he’s in heat.

It’s a good call, because half a moment later Harry’s coming, having a proper full-body orgasm around Zayn’s cock, and he shudders from head to toe as his throat elongates and he emits a growl of his own, grunting a curse and Zayn’s name, and spurting come in between their chests.

It brings Zayn to the edge as well. He digs his fingers in Harry’s sides, pressing him into the mattress. “I’m coming, babe,” he warns, growls as loudly as he’s ever growled in his life, feels like.

Harry nods, tears in his eyes and sweat matting his hair. “Come inside me. Knot me, fill me up.”

“I’m gonna put a baby in your belly, my love,” Zayn chuckles, kissing Harry while his throat keeps vibrating, and then he comes, hard, his knot sliding past Harry’s rim and filling Harry up.

Harry whimpers and comes again, dry, around Zayn’s knot, and Zayn also shudders bodily, feeling them locked in each other while he keeps coming.

They come down from it, the knot still solidly in place, and Zayn heaves a breath, his brain feeling less clogged now that he’s fucked the need out for a while.

Harry also feels calmer, his chest rising and falling under Zayn’s cheek, his legs wrapped around Zayn’s waist.

“Fuck,” Zayn murmurs, listening to Harry’s heart slow down, “I didn’t know it was like this.”

Harry chuckles. “Me neither. I’ve never been with an Alpha in rut apart from you two years ago. And never while I was in heat, needless to say.”

Zayn raises his head. “Good,” he grins.

Zayn’s knot deflates ten minutes later, and he slowly pulls out of Harry, doing whatever needs to be done as quick as possible before he’ll feel his rut take over again.

He stocks the bedroom with food and water. He calls his office, telling them he won’t be available for at least a week. He thinks it’s nice that the accountant office is actually _his_, because he doesn’t have to give explanations or doctor certificates to justify his absence if he wants to fuck his husband through their mating cycle.

Harry also calls his work, shamelessly tells his barely out of her teens secretary that he’s in heat and he’s trying to make a pup so his clients will have to wait or find another lawyer. Zayn laughs when he hears the poor girl give an embarrassed squeal into the phone before telling Harry not to worry, that she’ll take care of everything for him.

They text their friends to tell them that they’re alive and they’ll see them soon. Liam sends Harry a row of interrogation points, but Louis must understand, because he replies with water-drops emojis and _Good luck_.

That’s about all the time they have before they’re groaning and grunting and growling in bed again.

+

They fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

Zayn bends Harry over the armchair and fucks him from behind for an hour, making Harry come four times in a row before allowing himself to come as well, and knot him again. Usually, when they fuck multiple times—which happens a lot because, as Louis always says, they’re like rabbits—Zayn only knots Harry at the end of it, scared that it’ll be too much even if Harry always assures him that not even a thousand times will be too much if it’s his Alpha’s knot.

Now, Zayn knots Harry every time, because they know it’s already harder for males to conceive, and they don’t wanna risk wasting the opportunity every time Zayn’s knot comes out.

Harry rides Zayn at the foot of the bed.

They take a shower and Zayn fucks Harry so hard against the tiles that his feet don’t touch the floor.

Harry begs Zayn to knot him twice in less than half an hour, and Zayn doesn’t wanna hurt him, but he realizes he’s hurting Harry more by denying him his knot, so he obeys.

They spend the week riding each other through it.

So, it comes as a bit of a surprise, when a couple of weeks later their heat and rut are long gone, but Harry isn’t with child.


	2. Me, of all people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is very important to the series, at least in my humble opinion.  
I've been receiving a lot of lovely requests. I haven't had much time to write recently, and if you see me still posting regularly, it's only because I wrote a lot in the last months so now I have a lot of complete works ready to be just posted!  
Anyway, I am noting down all the requests and I will do my best to add them to the series as soon as the already-written parts will all be published.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot and any eventual original character.

It turns out Harry has a retroverted uterus.

The doctor assures them that a lot of people have it, and it’s okay, it just makes it a bit harder to conceive.

Zayn doesn’t think much of it, he’s willing to try until he can breathe so that he and Harry can have a family with each other, but he can see that Harry’s sad, like he thinks there’s something _wrong _with him.

Zayn does all he can to reassure him, tells him that he’s perfect, there’s nothing wrong with him. He lets Harry nest in their bedroom and stays wrapped around him for a whole day, providing to whatever his Omega needs.

They try two more times, and nothing happens.

It starts to tire them out, all the fucking through a heat and a rut, every month. Harry looks like he hasn’t slept decently in forever, and Zayn knows he looks the same, but they don’t wanna give up yet, not even when the doctor carefully tells them that they have to start considering the hypothesis that they won’t be able to ever conceive.

Harry cries that night, and Zayn doesn’t know what to do, because when he tries to comfort him, Harry snaps and tells him he should have chosen a better Omega.

It breaks Zayn’s heart, and he would rather leave Harry alone to avoid ruining it more, but he can’t, because the thought of being separated from Harry in that moment is literally unbearable.

So he just stays there with Harry, in their bed, spooning him without speaking, and for the first time in forever, Zayn prays.

He doesn’t pray to any particular divinity. He just sends a prayer up in the air, for Harry not to be heartbroken about this forever, and for both of them to recover quickly from the blow of not being able to become parents.

A month later, at night, while Harry is curled into his side and just breathing with his mouth pressed to Zayn’s chest, Zayn feels his rut starting to take over.

He sighs. He’s so tired. This is useless, and maybe they should just stop wearing themselves and each other out so much, and start taking their suppressants again.

Harry sniffles, and he probably smells Zayn’s rut, because he raises a set of teary eyes at Zayn. “Zayn?” he asks.

Zayn wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders a little tighter, because he feels the _need _to have his Omega close, and because he also smells the scent of another heat of Harry’s coming. “Yeah, babe?”

“Will you still love me even if I won’t be able to give you a pup?”

Zayn sits up so abruptly Harry falls back on the mattress, bouncing a little. “Harry, sit up,” he says, growls.

Harry does, twisting his fingers and looking down. Zayn doesn’t want to growl at him, but he can’t help it, because the mere thought that Harry could _think _Zayn can ever stop wanting him is absurd, unbearable, _wrong_. “Harry,” he says firmly, “I love you. I love _you_, not the things you can give me. I started loving you a long time ago, and I’m not gonna stop. Look at me, babe.”

Harry raises his eyes, blinking away the tears, and his eyelashes flutter a little when he catches the scent of Zayn’s rut. It’s almost there. Almost. “But it’s a child, Zayn. It’s not just _something_. You’ve been wanting a family for so long, and I won’t ever be able to give it to you.”

“Do you love me, Harry?” Zayn asks, trying to suppress another growl.

Harry gapes. “Of course I do!”

Zayn smiles. “That’s all that matters to me, honestly, babe. We can’t conceive, then so what? We wanna be parents? We adopt a kid. We take a kid from an orphanage, a kid _someone else _could have and didn’t want, and we _want _him or her like we’ve been wanting the pup we’ve tried to make for all these months. It won’t make me love you any less, it won’t make you or me less of a father, and it won’t mean we’re not fit to be parents.”

Harry blinks, tears flowing down his cheeks after Zayn blurts out what he’s been thinking for a while, and Zayn sighs in relief, because Harry believes him, and he _means _it. It doesn’t matter if they won’t get to experience everything that other parents do. The pregnancy, the birth, the biology of it. What they want is a family, another life to love like they love each other, a _bond_. They can have that anyway.

Harry flings himself at Zayn, scrambling on the sheets until he’s sitting in Zayn’s lap and kissing him roughly, his lips and tongue warm and wet against Zayn’s. They’re both hard already, and Zayn feels it crash, their synced mating cycle, and he doesn’t wanna say it, but he wants to try one last time, and that’s why he’s been thinking about taking their suppressants again, but never mustered the actual courage to do it or tell Harry about it.

“I wanna try one last time, Zayn,” Harry whispers, whimpers, tears making his mouth salty.

Zayn nods frantically against Harry’s lips, licking at the roof of his mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, babe. Okay.”

“Put a baby in my belly, my Alpha,” Harry says, pushing at Zayn’s chest, slowly, until Zayn’s on his back. “But if we don’t manage, love me anyway, forever, like I love you until the day I fucking die.”

Zayn nods again, his rut crashing over him in a growl of _mine mine mine I wanna make a pup I wanna knot I want to claim you and fuck you and protect you_. He palms Harry’s hips over his boxers, digs his fingers in the waistband, and rips the fabric off of Harry.

Harry groans and pants when he sees the poor underwear torn to shreds, and there’s something in his gaze, something a bit wicked, which reminds Zayn of when they started trying to make a pup. Zayn grins at Harry, and Harry chuckles at him, sliding a bit down his body and leaving a trail of slick in his wake.

He doesn’t let Zayn prepare him, and sinks on Zayn’s cock, quickly and swiftly, throwing his head back and moaning a curse. “So fucking good all the time, it’s not even the heat or the rut, it’s you, Zayn, it’s you you you…”

Zayn growls, gripping Harry’s hips harder to raise him a little so he can fuck up into him, hard. “Yes,” he agrees, “me too. It’s you, Harry. My Omega. My love. The father of my children.”

Harry opens his eyes again, and looks at Zayn in the eyes, starting to bounce on Zayn’s cock without interrupting their eye contact.

It feels so fucking intense Zayn is sure he won’t last very long, but he doesn’t look away. It’s like they’ve gone through all those months of failed attempts just to bring themselves to _this_ night, to fucking and desperately trying one more time just to make sure the other still wants this, still wants _them_, and Zayn knows that he’ll want Harry until the day he dies, but it’s so fucking overwhelming to know Harry just wants him too, wants him just the same, _forever and a little bit after that_, like they told each other on their wedding day.

Harry nods, because it’s his mate, his Omega, the man he loves, and he can read Zayn like an open book. “Forever and a little bit after that,” he pants, grunts, rolls his hips like he’s trying to prove a point to himself and to Zayn.

Zayn growls low in his throat, and the next moment he’s pushing himself upwards, to switch their positions. He spins Harry around, making him land flat on his stomach, the whole length of his body pressed on the mattress, and he goes behind him, covers him with his own body while at the same time slipping inside him again, easily and wetly like every time.

They’re plastered together, Zayn’s whole front to Harry’s whole back, and Zayn stretches his arms to grasp at Harry’s hands, to press those into the mattress as well. He places his mouth to Harry’s ear, licks it, snaps his hips forward and gets Harry’s spot dead-on, from the way Harry screams and shudders and comes, his dick trapped between his own body and the sheets, but Zayn doesn’t need to _see _it, to know when Harry comes around his cock.

“Do you want it, babe?” Zayn asks, grunts in his ear. “Do you want my knot?”

Harry nods, incessantly, whispering and pleading “Yes, babe, yes, please, I need it, I want it, I want it so much, so much, knot me, fill me up, I want it,” he says, and Zayn knows he doesn’t only mean the knot.

He keeps thrusting, keeps snapping his hips into Harry, heat boiling in the pit of his stomach when he feels all the points where they’re connected, his dick in Harry’s hole, his chest to his back, Harry pressed into the mattress, their hands joined on the pillows.

Zayn growls in Harry’s ear one more time. “_Mine_,” he says. “My Omega. _Mine_.”

Harry nods. “_Yours. _And, _mine_. My Alpha. _Mine_.”

Zayn comes. It takes him by surprise, the way his orgasm is ripped from his guts and his knot swells at the base of his dick before sliding and settling inside Harry, who screams and curses and comes again, shuddering for an awfully long time like he can’t stop coming, just like Zayn.

+

It’s still a rut and a heat, but they’re so tired that they don’t fuck frantically and without any control like they’ve always done before. They take their time.

Zayn knots Harry on his back, fucking him slowly through three orgasms before coming as well.

He takes Harry on his hands and knees on the floor, both of them facing the mirror so they can still look at each other.

Their mating cycle lasts only four days, because of how spent and a bit hopeless they are. It’s like their bodies are also signalling them that it’s time to give up.

They don’t. They use every occasion they get, every knot Zayn’s body produces, every drop of slick in between Harrys thighs, and they fuck each other through it, telling each other how much they want it, their family, their _bond_.

+

A couple weeks later, they feel a bit better, physically and morally. They decide to tell Louis and Liam that they’re gonna stop trying, at least for a while. Maybe not forever, but they need time to make their bodies recover properly, especially Harry’s.

Louis and Liam don’t even answer their text, but twenty minutes later they’re at the door, with junk food and ice-cream and movies, and Zayn takes comfort in Louis’s hug just as he did when they were fourteen and didn’t know anything about adult life, and love, and desperation.

They don’t talk about it. They just eat, and Harry laughs, and it has to be enough for now.

It all goes well, except that the next morning, Harry looks kinda shit, with eyebags and a bit pale, and Zayn worries that maybe he got something, or Zayn didn’t take care of properly closing the window after they fucked and Harry was all sweaty, and a thousand other things he should have done better.

Harry then goes a little green, and the next moment he’s out of the bedroom, and Zayn hears him throw up in the bathroom.

Zayn sighs, regretting all the junk food they ate the night before, and gives Harry ten minutes, because he knows Harry hates to throw up in front of other people, even Zayn. It’s the same even when they drink a bit too much.

When ten minutes have passed, and Harry isn’t back, Zayn decides to risk it and check up on him, so he goes to the bathroom.

The door is open, and Harry’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, hands on his face. “Haz, babe? You eat something bad yesterday?”

When Harry raises his face, he’s smiling widely, as widely as he hasn’t done in forever, feels like. “No,” he says, and stands up.

Zayn doesn’t understand, not immediately. Or maybe, in hindsight, he doesn’t want to _hope _enough to understand. Not until Harry comes in his space, and hands him something.

It’s a pregnancy test, and there’s a small plus on it.

Zayn thinks that he’s calm and collected, that he’s doing a sick job at being super chill, until he raises a hand to take the test from Harry, and his fingers are shaking so wildly Harry has to forcibly stop them and wrap them around the thin plastic bar. “Harry?” Zayn says, and his voice doesn’t even sound like it’s his.

Harry nods.

“What does the plus mean, Harry?” Zayn asks, gulping down some air that doesn’t quite reach his lungs.

Harry chuckles. “It means positive, Zayn. It means yes. It means everything.”

Zayn doesn’t know what he says. He only knows that when he kisses Harry, he’s not really sure if the tears he tastes are Harry’s, his own, or both.

+

“Yes, Harry, Zayn, you’re three weeks pregnant,” the doctor says.

She says it like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it’s not the _wildest fucking thing in the world _that they’re there in her studio and Harry’s lying down on the little bed to have an ultrasound and Zayn’s sitting next to him holding his hand. He’s just looking at Harry, he doesn’t even _dare _raise his eyes and look at the monitor.

Harry is looking at the monitor, though. His eyes are filled with tears, and the doctor points at something on the screen, and Harry covers his mouth with his hand and bursts out crying. Zayn doesn’t hear what the doctor says, because he’s too mesmerized by the happiness he can see on Harry’s face. Harry is always happy. But this happiness is _different_.

The doctor said three weeks. Zayn does some quick, sloppy calculations in his mind, and he can’t be sure, but he decides to believe that they conceived that first night of their last rut and heat, when they decided to try again one more time, when everything felt so intense that Zayn thought they were both gonna break.

Harry finally turns to face him, bright green eyes, dimples, smile. “It’s a _peanut_, Zayn!” he hisses. “He or she is as tiny as a _peanut _and they made us work for it like they were a fucking killer whale or something!”

Zayn hears the doctor snort a laugh, and he himself giggles dumbly, because what Harry said doesn’t make the slightest sense, but that’s Harry, his dork, his _pregnant _dork.

Zayn finally raises his eyes and looks at the screen. The doctor doesn’t say anything, but she points at the monitor again, and Zayn sees the tiny little thing in Harry’s belly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he only bursts into tears on Harry’s shoulder, and that basically sums it up.

+

That night, after they tell Liam and Louis, celebrate a little, and then go back home, it hits Zayn.

They’re walking through their living room, in silence because they’re still a bit shocked, and Zayn realizes that in nine months, there’s not gonna be silence in the house anymore, _ever_.

It’s stupid, that that’s what he thinks about in that moment, but there you have it. He turns to face Harry, and Harry’s smiling and looking around, like he’s having Zayn’s exact same thought.

Zayn knocks their foreheads together, only lightly, and sighs. “I can’t believe,” he says, and his voice breaks, so he has to clear his throat and then start again, “I can’t believe that you chose _me_, of all people, to have a family with. To create a life, to create a new bond just for us.”

Harry chuckles. He kisses Zayn, slow and hard, one hand gripping the neck of his t-shirt tightly. “Is there anyone else I’ve ever looked at? I don’t think so. So you see, Zayn, I’m afraid it was always you. You you you.”

Zayn laughs quietly, and kisses Harry some more before sighing again. “We’ve been officially pregnant for a day and we’ve already become two huge saps.”

“Maybe that’s why he waited all this time before showing up,” Harry comments. “He was trying to make us change our mind and spare himself the disgustingly sappy interactions.”

Zayn grins. “He? What if it’s a she?”

Harry grins too. “Nah, babe. It’s a he. I can feel it.”

“Whatever they are, and whatever they wanna be,” Zayn replies, “we love them, don’t we?”

Harry nods, tears in his eyes, and attacks Zayn’s lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you're thinking :)
> 
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk or if you just wanna give me a good prompt.


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